


Agree to Disagree

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [12]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Bi!Fitzsimmons, Episode: s01e07 The Hub, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mention of bisexuality, Milton - Freeform, Post-Episode: s01e07 The Hub, SHIELD Academy, Tumblr Prompt, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8819545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: amazingjemma gave me the following prompt on Tumblr: Fitzsimmons + "When we were kids, we promised that we’ll never fall in love with each other and save our friendship, but here we are, ten years later and you are looking so freaking gorgeous oh hell I think I fell in love with you"?And once the original fic was posted (Chapters 1+2), TashxTARDIS requested a follow-up (Chapters 3+4)





	1. At the Academy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amazingjemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingjemma/gifts), [TashxTARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashxTARDIS/gifts).



> I'm taking certain liberties (e.g. they might not necessarily be 'kids', and there might not be quite 10 years between the two chapters, but... it'll be close enough, I swear :) )
> 
> A big thank you to my wonderful beta reader, dilkirani

Jemma storms into the lab, out of breath, which causes Fitz to look up from the half-finished drone spread out in front of him.

“Where have you been?” he asks. “We were supposed to meet here 45 minutes ago!”

“I know, I know,” she says anxiously, hanging up her bag and jacket and putting on her labcoat. “I’m sorry.”

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She lets out a deep sigh. “I just spent the past two and a half hours breaking up with Milton.”

Fitz lets his head drop back. “Finally!” he exclaims.

“Fitz!” she barks indignantly.

His head flings forward and he looks at her with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles apologetically. “That was … that was insensitive, wasn’t it? Do you… do you want to order pizza and talk about it?” he asks, gesturing nervously.

“Actually, I think I’d rather move on with our project. I’ve wasted enough time talking _with_ him today, I don’t want to waste any more talking _about_ him.”

“Well, alright then,” Fitz says, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve already started making some of the modifications on Sneezy that we talked about last time.”

“Great, let’s take a look, shall we?”

* * *

“Umm, Fitz,” Jemma says, her head buried in Fitz’s handwritten notes and calculations.

“Huh?” Fitz mumbles, focused on the D.W.A.R.F. in front of him.

“You made a mistake here,” Jemma remarks, holding up one of the pages.

“No, I didn’t,” Fitz replies instantly, putting down his tools and grabbing the sheet from Jemma.

“Yes, you most certainly did,” she counters, and points at one of the calculations. “ _That_ number should be negative.”

“Yes it _should_ be, and it _is_!” Fitz replies, tapping his index finger next to the same number. “There’s a minus right there!”

Jemma leans closer to the paper, squinting her eyes in concentration. “That’s not a _minus_. That’s _barely_ an ink spot.”

“Get your bloody eyes checked!” Fitz exclaims, turning his head towards her.

“Work on your penmanship!” Jemma yells back equally appalled.

“Says the woman whose _tiny_ little squiggly scribbles make every professor on campus cringe!” Fitz counters, pointing at her.

Jemma looks at Fitz in silence for a moment, before bursting into laughter.

“Ummmm, I didn’t think it was _that_ funny,” Fitz mutters, wrinkling his forehead in confusion.

“No, it’s just—” Jemma replies, pressing her hand against her stomach, trying to catch her breath. It takes her a moment before she can speak again. “How about that pizza now?” she asks.

Fitz shrugs his shoulders, still visibly confused. “Sure, I could eat.”

“You can _always_ eat, Fitz,” Jemma counters, smiling at him.

“Ergo, my previous statement,” Fitz replies, drawing circles in the air with his index finger.

* * *

They’re sitting next to each other on one of the empty lab benches, each with a small box of pizza next to them.

“So, you wanna talk about it now?” Fitz asks, taking a bite of the piece in his hand.

Jemma swallows the food in her mouth. “Well, it’s just, earlier when we were fighting—”

“I’d call it a scientific quarrel,” Fitz interjects matter-of-factly.

Jemma chuckles. “Well, that’s exactly it,” she says and nods. “ _That’s_ the main reason why I broke up with Milton.”

“ _What_?” Fitz exclaims in disbelief. “You guys _never_ fought. It was obnoxious, quite frankly.”

“That’s exactly it!” Jemma replies in agreement. “He _always_ agreed with me. On _everything_! I mean, who does that?” she adds, shrugging her shoulders.

“He did agree with you _a lot_ ,” Fitz comments and nods.

“No, Fitz,” Jemma interjects. “On _everything_! I tested it!”

“You tested it?” Fitz asks confused. “How do you even—” 

“Well, I started talking about Mendel's laws of inheritance—which, as a geneticist he obviously knows by heart—and I _deliberately_ misquoted _several_ key points… and he _still_ agreed with me.”

“No way!” is Fitz’s only response.

“I mean _so_ many scientific advances only happen because someone disagrees with an established theory,” Jemma continues her rant. “ _Where_ would science be without disagreement?” She points at Fitz. “I mean, I don’t think we’ve _ever_ made it through a single experiment without disagreeing along the way.”

Fitz ponders for a moment, tilting his head from side to side. “I don’t know if _that’s_ true.”

“You’re disagreeing with me about whether we disagree or not,” Jemma points out, a smile flashing across her face.

“Ha!” Fitz laughs. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

They both chuckle, when Jemma’s phone starts beeping. She picks it up from where it is lying next to her and looks at the screen.

“Ugh,” she sighs, squinting her eyes in frustration.

“What?” Fitz asks.

She holds the phone in front of his face and he begins reading. “I’m sorry, Jemma. You were right about everything. Please, give me another chance.” He raises his eyebrows. “He even agreed with you on the breakup?”

“Ugh,” Jemma repeats, and urgently dials Milton’s number. “Milton, it’s Jemma… No, _please_ be quiet for a moment… Look. I’m sorry, but as I explained in _quite_ some detail earlier, this is _not_ going to work. You are _definitely_ not the right fish for me, and I _truly_ believe that I am not the right fish for you _either_. There’s _plenty_ of fish in the sea, and well… you’ll have to look for another fish, Milton. Please, _stop_ calling, _stop_ making it worse, _stop_ being so pathetic!” She hangs up and turns towards Fitz. “That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?”

“Well,” Fitz replies, dragging out the word a bit longer than necessary. “It probably got the message across,” he says encouragingly. “In a very aquatic way, might I add.”

Jemma buries her head in her hands. “Gosh, I’m a horrible, _horrible_ person,” her muffled voice exclaims.

Fitz reaches over to her, putting his hand on her back. “You were being _honest_ ,” he says. “ _Blunt_ , but honest.” He pauses. “A _horrible_ person is someone who asks you out for coffee, knowing that you’ve had a crush on him for weeks, _then_ asks you to do his Thermodynamics homework for him, while _he_ keeps talking about having to leave soon because he has a _date_.”

Jemma looks up at Fitz. “Sam Wringly?”

“Know anyone else who’s recently asked me out?” Fitz asks, pulling back his hand and grabbing another slice of pizza.

“Oh that little freeloader,” Jemma growls angrily. “I’m gonna give him some talking to next time I—”

“Forget about it, Simmons,” Fitz interrupts her with a full mouth. “My little revenge is already _well_ on its way.”

“What did you do?” Jemma asks curiously.

He grins mischievously. “I may or may not have snuck some mistakes into that precious Thermodynamics homework of his.”

“Good,” Jemma remarks, nodding once. “Freeloaders and constant Yay-sayers, such people _really_ have no place in S.H.I.E.L.D. to begin with.”

They eat quietly for a while. When Fitz is done, he lets out a contented grunt, resting his hands on his thighs.

Jemma reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Fitz.”

“What for?” he asks, looking from their intertwined hands up to her.

She smiles. “Disagreeing with me.”

Fitz chuckles. “You’re _very_ welcome,” he replies and takes a deep breath. “ _So_ , who’s going to be your next victim?” he asks.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “ _First_ of all, that makes me sound a little slutty!” The comment earns her another brief laugh. “And _second_ of all, I think I’ll focus on _science_ for a while.” She pauses, looking around the room. “Let’s face it, everything I need is right in this laboratory… including you,” she adds, giving his hand another squeeze.

“I have to disagree,” Fitz remarks.

“ _What_?” Jemma asks surprised.

Fitz points to the side with his thumb. “I have a whole _list_ of chemicals, alloys, tools, and what not that we could _definitely_ add to the inventory here.”

“Oh, Fitz.” She laughs and plants a quick peck on his cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder.

He rests his head against hers, his thumb gently stroking her hand. “ _So_ , no romance for a while?” he asks.

“No,” Jemma confirms. “ _Certainly_ not at the lab. It just complicates _everything_ and—” She pauses. “Fitz?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s never fall in love.”

Fitz raises his eyebrows. “You’re forcing me into a lonely existence of solitude?”

“No, I mean… with each other,” Jemma clarifies.

“What?” Fitz exclaims. “What the hell, Simmons? What makes you think that I—”

“I’m not saying you are or will,” Jemma says. “But, Fitz, you’re my _best_ friend. _And_ we’re a team. I can’t imagine doing _anything_ to ruin that and well… love ruins these things, don’t you think?”

He sighs and turns to face her. “Jemma Simmons,” he says, his blue eyes fixed on hers. “I _promise_ I won’t fall in love with you.”

Jemma smiles. “Leopold Fitz,” she announces. “I promise you the same.”

Fitz extends his right hand, which Jemma grabs, sealing their promise with a single strong handshake.


	2. Several years later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begins at the end of 01x07 - The Hub

“Well done, Fitz,” she says shyly, her hand nervously patting against her thigh. “So glad you’re alright.”

“Yep,” he mumbles, his eyes wandering around, unsure whom or what to focus on. “Good to see you, too.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, trying to fill the awkward silence. “The sandwich ... how was it?”

He opens his mouth only to say nothing.

“Too much aioli?” Jemma asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“It was delicious,” he says and nods, and she smiles at the compliment.

They both bend down, grabbing the handles of the crate holding the Overkill device. Together they carry it into the lab.

They stand in silence for a moment until Ward walks by, nodding his head towards Fitz, who does the same in return before turning back to face Jemma. Fitz gestures in Ward’s direction with his thumb. “I had Ward’s back the whole time.”

Jemma scoffs in a ‘ _Well obviously!_ ’ way.

Fitz chuckles, his fingers nervously tracing the rim of the crate in front of him. “Yeah. Pretty much saved him from a gang of Russian mobsters and kicked a few guys’ heads in.”

Jemma’s eyes widen at his last words.

Fitz exhales sharply. “But enough mission talk already,” he says, setting down his baseball cap on the table. “Um, anything exciting happen at the Hub?”

A nervous smile plays on her lips. “I shot a superior officer in the chest,” she says quickly.

He stares at her in silence. Slowly, his mouth gapes open. “You…you… _what_?” he stutters.

She chuckles, her breath shaky and nervous. “It’s a looong story.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure you’re _quite_ eager to clean up after this mission, but… maybe you’d want to stop by my bunk later? I’ll be sure to have a beer waiting for you. And then I could tell you everything.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I could _definitely_ use a beer… or five,” he adds, smiling briefly.

“Well,” Jemma says, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ll be sure to have plenty then.”

* * *

Fitz knocks on her open door only about thirty minutes later, his unruly, curly hair still slightly damp. “Hey,” he says quietly.

“Well, come on in, disabler of dangerous devices, hero of the day,” Jemma jokes, trying to hide her nervousness.

He chuckles, taking a few steps closer. He sits down next to her on the bed and she hands him a bottle of beer. “As promised,” she remarks.

“Thanks,” he replies, taking the bottle and unscrewing the cap. He takes a long sip.

“Ahhh,” he sighs contently. Then he looks at Jemma. “So, about the whole shooting a superior officer in the chest thing. Mind filling in some of the blanks?”

Jemma laughs nervously. “Well,” she begins. “It all started when Skye wouldn’t shut up about the fact that she felt uncomfortable that we didn’t know more about your mission—”

She tells him the whole story, and he listens patiently.

“—And I’m fairly certain the _only_ reason why I wasn’t court-martialed is that Coulson must have given Hand _quite_ the talking to about not having an extraction team in place, or at the _very_ least giving you that information _prior_ to sending you off.” Jemma falls silent, her fingers playing with the label on her beer bottle.

Fitz lets out a brief laugh. “Skye’s a bad influence on you, you know?” he remarks.

“Well, but if she hadn’t insisted—” Jemma immediately interjects.

“But!” Fitz exclaims, raising his index finger to indicate that he wasn’t quite done yet, and Jemma falls silent, allowing him to continue.

“But in this _particular_ case I’m very glad she is,” Fitz adds, smiling at Jemma.

The corners of her mouth quirk up and her eyelids flutter. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. She puts her beer down on the nightstand and reaches over to grab his hand. Slowly, she lets each finger glide into the empty spaces between his. She squeezes his hand slightly and feels him return an equal amount of pressure. She stares at their hands, blinking away tears.

“I’m sorry, Fitz,” she whispers.

“What for?” he asks quietly. His thumb gently caresses her knuckle.

She keeps her eyes focused on their intertwined hands. “I… I broke our promise,” she says, finally forcing herself to look at him. “I’m trying not to, Fitz, but—”

He wrinkles his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

She takes a deep breath and looks into his eyes. Less than three weeks ago, she had almost died. Today, he had almost been killed. It hadn’t been the exciting fieldwork she had imagined. It hadn’t been the scientific adventure full of wonders. It had been dangerous and scary and he’d almost lost her and she’d almost lost him and what that made her realize scared her maybe even more but… she had to…

“Simmons?” His concerned voice interrupts her train of thought and encourages her to act at the same time.

Slowly she reaches for his cheek with her free hand. Her eyes flutter shut as she leans closer, allowing her lips to gently brush against his, just for a fleeting moment.

Just as quickly she retreats, anxiously letting go of his hand, awaiting his reaction. She wants to avoid his eyes yet forces herself not to.

His mouth is slightly ajar. “Umm… what was that?” he mumbles in confusion.

She sighs and the flood of words she had rehearsed over and over while she waited for him to return escapes her lips. “I’m sorry, Fitz. I… I don’t want to change anything between us, I don’t want to ruin things. But what you said when we were trying to find an antiserum for the Chitauri virus, about how you’ve always been by my side... Well, you _have_ , and I don’t want it to be any other way. But I—” She exhales sharply. “You’re wonderful, Fitz. Amazing really. Beautiful. Inside and out. Your mind, your… your soul… _you_. You’re gorgeous and, I don’t know—” She shrugs her shoulders. “I think I fell in love with you.”

She looks at him, wondering for a second if someone had hit the pause button on them.

“Oh,” he finally replies, wide-eyed.

Jemma swallows, trying to figure out how to row backwards, how to climb out of the hole she just dug for herself. “I _know_ we made a promise to each other, Fitz, and—believe me—I will _honor_ that promise, and I’d be so happy just being friends, but I… I wanted to be honest with you… wanted you to know. I owe you that kind of hon—”

“Dinner,” he interrupts her.

“What?” she asks, unsure if she’s heard correctly.

“Or a movie,” he replies, his index finger gesturing nervously.

“What?” she repeats, her heart beating noticeably faster.

“Or both,” Fitz adds.

“What?” It’s nothing more than a weak puff of air that escapes her lungs at this point.

“You, me,” he says, gesturing between their two bodies. “We could go out for dinner.”

She straightens her back. “You mean as friends?” she asks, doubting that he could mean anything else.

“Y-yes,” he replies hesitantly. “ _Or,_ ” he adds, “we could go as friends and then see—”

“You’re talking about going on a _date_?” she interrupts him, thinking she won’t believe her ears unless he spells it out for her.

“ _You_ just admitted you’re in love with me,” he remarks, pointing at her.

“Yes, but _you_ —” she tries to counter, gesturing at him.

“Jemma,” he interjects. “You’re not the only one who had a life-changing moment, a near-death experience, a ‘you’ve been beside me the whole damn time’ epiphany.”

A smile flashes across her face. “You mean you—”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“But our promise?” she wonders.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Was a promise that two barely eighteen-year-olds made to each other, because one of them just had his heart broken and the other had just broken up with someone.”

“Sam Wrigly broke your heart?” she asks, surprised.

“Well, no, maybe not,” Fitz replies. “He asked me out for coffee under false pretenses and flunked Thermodynamics because of it. But… still, back then, it hurt.”

Jemma sighs. She shifts so that she sits cross-legged on the bed, facing him more directly. “What if those eighteen-year-olds were right, Fitz?” She grabs his hand, which is resting on his lap. “What if we ruin what we have? Our friendship? I never want to lose that.”

He covers her hand with his. “Then let’s make a new promise,” he suggests. “No matter how our relationship continues, let’s always be friends first.”

He smiles at her, and she can’t help but smile herself. “Friends first. Lovers second,” she remarks.

“Lovers?” he mutters, his eyes wide and panicked, his cheeks turning slightly red.

“Well,” Jemma shrugs. “I thought that would be a major benefit of the whole falling in love and dating thing.”

“Yes, yes, definitely,” he replies and swallows. “It’s just… hearing it out loud—”

“Changing your mind already?” she asks teasingly and nervously at the same time.

“No,” he exclaims without hesitation. “Out with the old rule, in with the new,” Fitz adds.

They smile at each other and for a moment Jemma loses herself in his blue eyes.

“Oh,” she pulls herself back to more pressing matters. “One more thing, Fitz.”

“What now, Simmons?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

“Never stop disagreeing with me!” Jemma requests, reinforcing her plea by squeezing his hand a little tighter.

The corners of his mouth quirk up and he smiles at her adoringly. “I will agree to disagree with you when the situation calls for it,” he states matter-of-factly.

Jemma chuckles. “That sounds rather agreeable to me.”

Fitz lets out a deep sigh. “So,” he begins. “This kissing thing that you did earlier.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I tried that myself?”

“Please do,” she replies.


	3. Pre-Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TashxTARDIS asked on Tumblr if I could write a followup to the original story (i.e. Chapters 1+2) in which Fitzsimmons go on their date. How could I refuse?

Jemma looks over to where Fitz is sitting in the Bus’ common area. His laptop is propped up on his legs and he’s typing vigorously, oblivious to anything around him. His forehead is slightly wrinkled in concentration. Jemma’s eyes wander to his hair and a warm tingle creeps up her spine as she remembers how her fingers combed through his curls only three days earlier. 

She stares at his lips, inhaling slowly at the memory of how soft they felt, how tender and eager, how they pressed against hers with just the perfect amount of pressure, how his tongue slowly glided across her lips, how a soft moan escaped her mouth when she allowed her tongue to play with his.

Her heart beats faster when she looks at his slender fingers dancing across the keyboard, remembering how it made her shiver in excitement when they traced her hairline, when his hands slid down her back, pulling her closer.

Three days. It had been three days since her world had been turned upside-down. First into a dark and scary abyss when she thought she might lose him, and then in the best way imaginable, when he was alive and well and they admitted that friendship didn’t even begin to describe the feelings they felt for each other.

It had been three days since they threw their old promise to never fall in love with each other out the window.

Three days since they kissed for the first time, and the second, and the third.

Three days since their kisses grew from hesitant and careful to yearning, steaming…  _ hot _ .

And three days since Skye burst into Jemma’s bunk unannounced. They had darted apart when Skye yelled “I _knew_ it! I fucking _knew_ it! There was no _way_ you two weren’t dating. _No._ _Fucking_. _Way_!”

Fitz had barely spoken to Jemma since. Barely  _ looked _ at her since. Jemma quietly cursed Skye for her incredibly bad timing and her foul mouth, even though Skye had since apologized profusely once Jemma confessed how new the situation was for them.

But things remained awkward between Jemma and Fitz, and Jemma was too nervous herself to approach him and figure out where things stood,  _ why _ he was avoiding her. Actually, to say things were awkward was an understatement.

Jemma sighs and takes a sip from her tea. Maybe she should just accept that they somehow blew things before they even began.  _ Love ruins these things  _ , eighteen-year-old Jemma had said. Maybe eighteen-year-old Jemma had been right all along.

She picks up her book and reads without really paying attention to the words. She’s just trying to keep her mind occupied with anything besides mourning the loss of something she never knew she wanted and yet felt so empty without.

She’s not sure how long she has been reading when Fitz suddenly sits down next to her on the couch. The unexpectedness of it all makes Jemma jump a little.

“Hey,” he says quietly, placing his still open laptop on his legs.

“Hey,” Jemma replies, too surprised to say anything else. She puts her book down on the coffee table and smiles hesitantly.

_ He hasn’t spoken to you in  _ **_three_ ** _ days and here you are smiling when he has barely acknowledged your presence _ , she thinks, slightly annoyed with herself as she straightens back up on the couch.

“I need your help,” Fitz says quietly.

“You need my help?” she asks, surprised. “You haven’t spoken to me in  _ three _ days and now you need my  _ help _ ?” She has raised her voice without even noticing it.

“I’ve spoken to you,” Fitz replies defensively.

“Barely!”

“I was busy,” he counters, shrugging his shoulders.

“ _ Busy? _ ” she exclaims in disbelief. “ **_Busy??_ ** ”

“ **_Yes!_ ** ” he says loudly. Then he pauses and takes a deep breath. His voice is much quieter and calmer when he continues. “After Skye interrupted us and ruined our moment and kept teasing us to no end the next day, I… I wanted to make sure I was better prepared next time.”

“Curse Skye and her  _ incredibly _ bad timing,” Jemma mutters under her breath. She exhales sharply. “Prepared for what?” she asks, curiously, some of her initial anger slowly fading away.

“Our date,” Fitz states matter-of-factly.

“Oh?” Jemma mutters, surprised.

“Yes, I mean, if you still want to,” Fitz replies, looking at her with sad puppy-eyes.

“ _ Of course _ I still want to,” Jemma replies, smiling in relief. “I thought maybe  _ you _ had changed your mind.”

“No,  **_no_ ** , not at all,  _ definitely _ not,” Fitz says quickly and nervously. “I just… Skye… I don’t know… I was already nervous and then she… it threw me off and I wasn’t quite sure what to do and how to talk about it and… I’m not good at this kinda stuff, Simmons. Talking? You know me! And so I tried to focus on things I could  **_do_ ** . Like planning. And I thought I’d surprise you with the perfect date and  _ show _ you that that’s still what I want. But… but now I’m stuck. And I need your help.”

“You’re stuck?” Jemma asks, confused.

“Yes.”

“And you need my help?”

“Yes.”

“With our date?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite following,” Jemma admits.

“Here,” Fitz says, putting his laptop on her lap. “You pick!”

Confused, Jemma looks at the screen: a list entitled “First Date.”

“You made a list?” she remarks and the corners of her mouth quirk up.

“Dinner options. Movie options. Miscellaneous,” Fitz clarifies, reaching over to the track pad and scrolling down through various pages of bullet points.

“Miscellaneous?” Jemma asks befuddled.

“Bowling, shooting pool, playing darts, laser tag, paintball,” Fitz offers a few examples.

“You want to go on a date with me where we  _ shoot _ at each other?” Jemma asks, thoroughly confused. “You’ve known me for  _ years _ ! Do you  _ really _ think I want to play laser tag or paintball?” She doesn’t mean for her voice to get loud again, but the mere thought seems outrageous.

“ _ No! _ ” Fitz exclaims. “I  _ don’t _ think you would  _ ever _ want to play laser tag or paintball, but then I somehow started to second guess myself, thinking what if it’s one of those few things I  _ don’t _ know about you and you really  _ do _ want to play laser tag or paintball? I just wanted to make sure that I have  _ all _ options on the table.”

“This list is over  _ four _ pages long!” Jemma remarks, scrolling through the document.

“I  _ know _ !” Fitz exclaims. “And I can’t decide. I just  _ can’t _ .” His hands begin to gesture wildly. “I  _ can’t _ pick the wrong thing, because it  _ has _ to be perfect. Because I’ve seen you date and I  _ know _ that you  go into the date with about  _ fifty _ scenarios in your head from ‘ideal’ to ‘semi-ideal’ to ‘acceptable’ to ‘What on earth was he thinking?’” He pauses briefly, before raising his index finger. “ _ One _ wrong move on my end and I could ruin this before it even begins.” He shakes his head. “I’m not risking that. I’m gonna give you options and you’ll tell me which one sounds best to you because I want this to be on the ‘ideal’ to ‘semi-ideal’ scale, not the ‘Nice try I think we better stay friends’ scale.’ ”

Even though she feels that he is seriously panicked and distraught, Jemma can’t help but smile. “Fitz, you’re overthinking this,” she says soothingly.

“ _ Of course _ I’m overthinking this, Jemma!” Fitz exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “There’s  **_137_ ** different options on that list.  _ Considerably _ more if you decide that you’d like a dinner-movie or movie-miscellaneous or dinner-miscellaneous or dinner-movie-miscellaneous combo. I  _ know _ I’m overthinking this and I just told you  _ why _ I’m overthinking this, which is why I’m  _ begging _ you to pick something. Please, just pick something!”

“Fitz!” she interrupts him, closing his laptop. “ _ Forget _ the list. Throw the list out the window.”

“I  _ can’t _ , Jemma,” Fitz replies, almost hysterical. “It  _ has to _ be perfect! I want it to be  _ perfect _ . I’m in  _ love _ with you, Jemma, and I don’t want to screw this up and—”

“Fitz!  _ Stop! _ ” Jemma says sternly, and puts his laptop down on the coffee table.

He looks at her in silence, breathing heavily, and it breaks her heart to see him like that.

“Fitz,” she says softly. “You don’t  _ need _ the list.”

“I do, I ca—” he tries to interject, but Jemma puts her hands on his, pushing them down onto his thighs. For a moment she simply looks into his eyes, shimmering like glass on a rainy day. She keeps her eyes locked onto his, breathing slowly, relieved when she notices that it has the effect she had hoped for. His breathing calms down, and he sits quietly, patiently, waiting for her to speak.

“Fitz, what was the  _ first _ thing that came to your mind?” she asks, reaching for his face with one hand, gently caressing his cheek with her thumb.

“Indian,” he replies, barely above a whisper.

“Indian?” she repeats, a smile playing on her lips.

“Yes, because— ”

“—We ordered Indian the first time we ordered food to the lab at the Academy,” she finishes his sentence.

He shrugs his shoulders. “That was the first time we talked about something besides science,” Fitz says quietly and sighs. “Always thought that was the moment we stopped being just lab partners and became friends instead.”

“Same here,” Jemma admits, happy to see the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile.

“So, Indian is fine?” Fitz asks, still speaking softly.

Jemma laughs. “Indian is perfect, you idiot.”

He chuckles and sighs in relief. “What about a movie? I thought maybe  _ The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug _ ?”

“Oh,” Jemma says, wrinkling her forehead. “I was hoping to maybe go with Skye. I mean the three of us.”

“Oh, that  _ would _ be nice,” Fitz agrees. “I could double-check to see what else is playing.”

“Or we could just do dinner?” Jemma suggests. “You know,  _ ease _ ourselves into the whole dating thing? I think we’re both so nervous about it. It would take some pressure off to just focus on  _ one _ thing.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea,” Fitz acknowledges, smiling at her. “So. Do you have time tomorrow night?”

“Fitz,” Jemma says, tilting her head slightly. “You  _ know _ I have time tomorrow.”

He chuckles quietly. “Then how about we leave here at seven?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jemma whispers softly.

Fitz nervously looks around the room, and Jemma follows his gaze, slightly confused.

“What?” she finally asks, barely above a whisper.

But Fitz doesn’t say anything. Instead he smiles at her and his hand reaches for her face, his finger slowly combing through her hair, gliding down her neck, and pulling her closer until his lips are on hers, warm, soft, tender, and surprisingly eager.

Jemma lets out a sad sigh when he breaks their kiss; it had felt much too short.

“So tomorrow,” Fitz says, grinning slightly.

“Indian food,” Jemma whispers.

Fitz takes a deep breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow at seven then.”

“Fitz,” Jemma remarks, rolling her eyes. “We work together; we’ll see each other all day tomorrow.”

He chuckles. “Right. Even better.”

He leans closer to kiss her again.

“Gotcha!” Skye exclaims from behind the couch, making them jump apart.


	4. Date night!

The restaurant is decorated beautifully in red, gold, and yellow. The smells of cumin, nutmeg, clove, and cardamom fill the air. Indian music is playing quietly in the background; the tones of a veena cut through the noises of waiters hustling and people’s conversations.

They’re both hunched over their menus.

“We could order a few different dishes and share,” Jemma suggests, briefly looking up. “That way we could get a bit of a taste of everything.”

“Uh,” Fitz mutters, dropping his menu to look at her. “No.”

“Why not?” Jemma inquires, slightly annoyed.

“Because we’ve done that in the past and it’s always a disaster because not everyone likes to breathe fire after they’ve eaten dinner.”

“Oh _please_ ,” Jemma says. “I don’t request my food too spicy.”

“I beg to differ!” Fitz replies sternly.

“Indian food _should_ be spicy,” Jemma remarks defensively.

“I’m not saying _you_ can’t eat spicy food,” Fitz counters. “I’m saying _I_ don’t want to because I don’t want to regret our first date tonight when the spicy food _you_ like sets _my_ arse on fire because I compromised on something I shouldn’t have! _Whence_ I suggest we each get our own dish.”

“‘Sets my arse on fire’???” Jemma repeats wide-eyed. “I _really_ don’t think that’s appropriate first date _or_ dinner conversation.”

“From the woman who once dissected a cat and left its liver next to my lunch.”

“Oh, not that stupid cat again, Fitz,” Jemma exclaims in frustration, rolling her eyes.

“Consider the topic dropped,” Fitz says more quietly. “But could we please—”

“Maybe you’re right,” Jemma says calmly. “Let’s both get what we want.”

“Perfect,” Fitz replies with a smile.

* * *

“Seriously, Simmons, I remember a time when you were _furious_ because this Operations hunk suggested you split the bill on a date, and now you wanna _insist_ on it?” Fitz exclaims, confused and slightly annoyed, trying to pry the little plastic plate with their bill out of Jemma’s hands.

“Because we’re _more_ than that,” Jemma counters, keeping a tight grip on the tray.  
“We’re not just on a date. We’re best friends, and partners, and… I don’t want this relationship to be about you providing for me. That’s old-fashioned and ridiculous… and we’re… we’re different! We’re _better_ than that. We’re a back and forth! We’re sharing things equally.”

“Okay,” Fitz says more calmly, still not letting go of the bill. “I suppose I get that, but could we… just for tonight… I mean… just let me be the one to pay _tonight_ , because _I_ was the one who asked you out. And then you pay next time or something. Please, Jemma,” he pleads. “Let’s keep this a date and not friends splitting dinner.”

Jemma sighs and lets go of the tray. “Alright,” she says, her eyes sparkling happily. “You’re right. This is _not_ two friends splitting dinner.” She shrugs her shoulders. “And it _is_ really quite lovely to be treated to a nice meal. And the food was delicious,” she adds.

* * *

“Should we go for ice cream?” Fitz suggests as they exit the restaurant.

“It’s freezing,” Jemma replies, wrinkling her forehead in confusion.

“It’s _above_ freezing,” Fitz disagrees.

“Alright,” Jemma acknowledges. “But it’s certainly _cold_. I can see my breath as I walk. We both know what that means, or do I need to explain the science behind it?”

“Since when does cold weather mean we can’t have ice cream?” Fitz asks.

“How can you be so _incredibly_ driven by your stomach?” Jemma marvels.

“You know that about me!”

“Yes I do,” Jemma replies. “And it’s always baffled me.”

“How about _I_ have ice cream and _you_ get hot chocolate or tea?” Fitz suggests.

“That seems like an acceptable compromise,” Jemma says, smiling and reaching for Fitz’s hand.

* * *

“Ugh, my hands are freezing,” Fitz mutters grumpily, looking down at his hands, turning them front to back while they walk through a small park back to the car.

“I wonder if it has anything to do with _insisting_ on not wearing gloves _and_ eating ice cream in the middle of winter,” Jemma teases him before throwing her empty to-go cup into a trash can in passing.

“I’m not gonna deny that,” Fitz replies, grinning widely. “But I have no regrets about my choice of dessert. _Maybe_ about the glove thing but _not_ the dessert!”

Jemma chuckles. “Come here,” she says softly and stops. She waits until he turns around and walks back to her, a smile lingering on his face. She reaches out and takes his hands into hers. Even through her thin knitted gloves, she can feel how cold his skin is. She locks her eyes onto his while rubbing his hands.

His eyes grow darker and it makes Jemma’s heart beat faster. She inhales slowly when she notices him leaning down to kiss her. Instinctively, she moves her hands around his waist when his soft lips brush against hers while his fingers reach up, combing through her hair and down to her neck.

She lets out a little shriek, breaking their kiss. “Your hands are like ice buckets,” she exclaims and starts laughing.

Fitz chuckles briefly. Then he smiles at her longingly and sighs. “You think you can brave it?” he asks raspily.

One corner of her mouth quirks up mischievously. “I’ll do my best to power through,” she replies, before pulling him closer by the collar of his jacket, while his hands move to her back.

Their kiss is tender and slow and warms more than just her heart.

“So, Agent Simmons,” Fitz says, when the need for air forces them to break apart. “I consider this a _very_ successful first date.” Gently he sways her side to side. “What’s _your_ assessment?”

Jemma inhales slowly, unable to hide her happy smile. “I have no reason to disagree, Agent Fitz.”


End file.
